Down in the Dark
by Shimjim
Summary: StoneClan has always survived, but that may be changing. As a young leader dies and an ambitious deputy is left to lead, the loyal warrior Cinderwing is kidnapped by a strange rogue. Can she survive her mad captor and save her Clan?
1. Chapter 1: Prologue

**Woot, it's my first actual story! For those of you who read my 100 Oneshot Challenge, you'll probably recognize some characters. If you haven't read it, don't worry; it's not necessary to read those to understand this. Ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you: Down in the Dark.**

** Disclaimer: I don't own Warriors. If I did, I wouldn't be typing this on FanFiction, and Firestar would have died a long time ago.**

_The mind is a fragile thing. It is our greatest gift, our most dangerous weapon. The intricacies of it are far beyond our understanding. It is what makes our decisions, keeps us on the right path. We would be little more than our own prey without it. But what happens when it all goes wrong? Yes, the mind is a fragile thing. It can only bend so far without breaking. Snapped and shattered, we are trapped in our own nightmares, volatile and defenseless. Lost to our own fears, we are monsters ourselves._

_ The mind is a fragile thing. So what happens when it breaks?_

Cinderwing sat on the edge of camp, gazing out into the misty forest. She couldn't sleep with all of these wayward thoughts swirling around her mind. She looked towards the leader's den. Her uncle wasn't doing well, deteriorating with every passing heartbeat. _Don't think like that, Cinderwing, _she scolded herself. _Breezestar will get better with time. _

"Can't sleep?" a familiar voice called. She whipped around, the dark fur along her shoulders bristling until she recognized the dark cat. He padded forward, sitting down beside her. He looked exhausted, dark pelt ruffled and unkempt.

She smiled softly. "Good evening, Uncle Sharpthorn. Yeah, I'm having some trouble sleeping. Too much to think about to sleep." Her expression became troubled. "How's Uncle Breezestar?" She stared out into the forest, thinking about her uncle. He and Sharpthorn had become surrogate fathers to her over time, especially after her adoptive mother's mate had died.

The medicine cat's eyes darkened at the mention of his brother. He sighed, a long, anguished sound. "He's very sick, Cinderwing," he meowed quietly. "I've never seen any disease like this before. His fur is falling out, and he's just skin and fur. Whatever it is, it's burning through his lives like wildfire. He's lost two just today." He shook his head sadly. "You might want to say your goodbyes tomorrow, because he won't make it until the full moon."

"And then Sparkstorm will become leader," she hissed. "As if anything good will come out of that." Her lip curled as she pictured the golden tom receiving his nine lives. Any cat deserved them more than that cat.

Sharpthorn studied her curiously. "I know you don't like him, but it's what the code calls for," the dark medicine cat mewed. "I never really understood what happened between you two. You and he were the best of friends at one time."

The gray she-cat shook her head. "We just...drifted apart, I suppose. I don't think he's the right cat to lead us. He's too ambitious." _Not to mention what happened to poor Wrenpaw, _she thought darkly. The poor apprentice was just barely clinging to life, covered in burns and blinded.

Her blue-eyed uncle looked down at her sadly. "I understand. You don't have to explain it to me." He looked from her to his nest quickly. "I have to go," he meowed. "Larkpaw will be waking up soon, and I'll need to give her some herbs. Good night, Cinderwing." The dark tom licked her cheek and padded away to his den.

Left alone in the darkness, Cinderwing sighed, her mind still on the deputy. She bristled as she pictured the smirk that was always on Sparkstorm's face. She was really going to claw it off his face one day. She looked around the camp, her ears picking up the very faint sound of Breezestar's ragged breathing. _Is this the end of StoneClan_?

She shook the traitorous thought out of her head. What was she thinking? StoneClan had always survived, and this would change nothing. The camp itself was a testament to that, having been ravaged by a fire only a moon ago. But everything still survived, cats included. _The Clan has had terrible leaders before, _she reasoned, _and all of them were much worse than Sparkstorm could ever hope to be. The elders still tell stories of the tyrant to ruled before Uncle Breezestar's predecessor. StoneClan will survive._

All was quiet in the camp, all except for her breathing and the lonely howl of the wind. It was particularly strong tonight, buffeting her tabby fur. Over the raging wind, she could hear something, a small keening that set her on edge. As the wind died down, the sound became louder, echoing out of the shadowy forest. All of a sudden, it hit her.

"A kit!" she whispered. _But what is a kit doing outside of camp? _She cast a quick glance over to the nursery. The only queen at the moment was Blizzardpelt, a deaf she-cat. She wouldn't know if her kits escaped in the middle of the night, and the rest of the camp was asleep. She hesitated for just a moment. If she woke up enough cats for a patrol, she'd have a better chance of finding the kit. "But it would take too much time," she whispered to herself. Every fox or snake would be out at this time of night, and a defenseless kit would be an easy catch.

Her mind made up, Cinderwing raced out of camp, past the Stone Tree and her dying uncle's den. She was a smoke-gray blur as she ran into the forest. She inhaled deeply as she ran, trying to pick up the kit's scent. There was nothing, but the wind might have destroyed any trace of it. The lost kit's cries echoed throughout the forest, but they seemed to be the strongest to the south. _The river, _she thought with growing horror. The caverns in the steeps riverbanks would attract the attention of a kit, just like it attracted the attention of bloodthirsty rogues and predators.

Running as fast as she could in the darkness, her hunch was proven to be correct as the cries grew closer with every pawstep. She could make out the words of the shouts now. "Help me! Please help me," the kit begged, sounding panicked. She quickened her pace as the trees began to thin out, revealing the rocky banks of the river. The kits voice was closer than ever.

"Help me," the small voice pleaded. It was a tom, she was sure, but something about the voice caused her hackles to rise. Something was off about this. The kit's voice issued from one of the larger tunnels, and she padded over quickly. She let a surprised curse fly out of her mouth as a piece of flint slashed her pawpad, leaving a trail of bloody prints behind her.

Ignoring the pain in her foot, she ran to the tunnel. She could just barely make out the kit's form in the darkness, a trembling scrap of fur. "Please help me," it whispered, voice drenched in fear. "Don't let them get me."

Cinderwing's blood ran cold at that. The cavern was large but had a small opening, too small for her to fit through. She reached out with one white paw, stretching as far as she could. "Grab my paw, little one," she said soothingly. "I won't let them get you. Just grab my paw and I'll take you home."

The little cat grabbed her paw immediately, latching into it with surprisingly sharp claws. She hissed in pain and began to pull him out slowly. Looking closely, she could see the kit's yellow eyes shining in the darkness.

She froze before immediately trying to pull her paw away. All of Blizzardpelt's kits still had kit-blue eyes. This was not a Clan kit. Even as she tried to snatch her paw away, the kit pulled back, digging his claws into her with unusual strength. "I've got her," he announced, bright eyes looking at something beyond Cinderwing. The kit's voice had changed from terrified to pleased in a moment, and she whipped her head around.

A dark cat stood in front of her, looking down at her with malicious yellow eyes. The moonlight revealed the battle scars etched over his face. "Hello, dearie," he purred in a voice like ice. "Let's have some fun, shall we?"

She felt the crushing blow to the back of her head for only a moment before she was consumed by darkness, swallowed up by shadows and a monster with yellow eyes.

**And so begins the story. I have to say I'm pretty pleased with how this turned out, and I'd like to hear what you think! Reviews are lovely, and criticism is welcome!**


	2. Chapter 2: Chapter One

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed last chapter! I'm glad to have some new reviewers, because you guys are what keep me going! Everyone was so worried about poor Cinder that I'm almost sorry to say we won't be seeing her this chapter. Instead, we'll see what's going on in StoneClan from Sharpthorn's POV.**

** Disclaimer: Don't own Warriors, savvy?**

Sharpthorn padded into the den and had to fight the urge to flinch as the smell of sickness surrounded him. His brother's ragged, labored breathing echoed through the air. He forced a false smile on his face as he approached the tabby leader. "How are you feeling this morning?" he asked.

At first, he though Breezestar didn't recognize him. Finally, however, there was a hoarse sigh. "Sharpthorn." He took another deep breath, and the black cat could hear the rattling in his chest. "I lost another life last night," the tabby leader murmured. "Only one left."

The blue-eyed medicine cat cursed himself for not staying the night in the den. "What did StarClan say?" he asked. He began to sort through the herbs he had placed in the den yesterday. Everything was as he left it, except the poppy seeds were missing.

"I saw Mother," he answered. Sharpthorn went perfectly still, glaring at the herbs. He could feel his brother's eyes on his back. "She says she was sorry for what she did, brother. She said she regrets everything." The thin tom resisted the urge to bristle.

"She's apologized to me as well, Breezestar, but that doesn't change what she did." His mew was quiet and he pulled the juniper berries and chamomile out of the pile. "An apology does not change the past." He passed the herbs to his brother. "Eat these," he instructed. "Did you take the three poppy seeds I left here yesterday?"

The pale tabby did as he was told, amber eyes distant and clouded. As he swallowed, he shook his head. "No, I didn't." The sick cat paused for a moment, his breathing coming a little easier as he didn't speak. "You have to let go of the past, Sharpthorn. I don't think Mother ever meant to harm us when she pushed us to our limits. It was the way she showed her love."

Sharpthorn listened until he mentioned their mother. "I will not forgive and forget, brother," he growled. "You and Smokeclaw were the favorite sons, so you never saw the side of her that I did." His icy eyes darkened with anger as he remembered the screaming tirades.

"Sharpthorn, you must—"

"That cat is the reason our sister is gone!" the medicine cat snarled, his temper flaring. All was silent in the den for a moment, and the stench of death seemed stronger than ever. "I'm sorry," the medicine cat meowed. "I should not have raised my voice like that. But Ivykit left because of our mother, and she never came back."

The leader waved a paw. "It's all right. I miss her as well." His eyes, clouded as they were, darkened a bit. "Cinderwing didn't stop by this morning. She always comes by to wish me a good morning and ask how I'm doing. Have you seen her?'

The black cat frowned at the mention of the gray tabby. "No, I haven't seen her." _Not since last night, when she was sitting at the edge of camp. _"I'll go ask around," he mewed. He pushed the last of the herbs toward his brother, coltsfoot. "Eat this."

His brother pushed it away. "Later. Do you think I'm going to die?"

The question caught Sharpthorn off-guard, knocking the breath out of him as well as any blow to the stomach. "I..." He trailed off. "Yes, I think you're going to die," he answered truthfully.

The gray tabby nodded. "Thank you." He closed his eyes. "I'm tired. Go tend to your other patients. I'll be fine." The leader curled up in a ball, and Sharpthorn could barely recognize his enthusiastic, reckless brother.

The black tom nodded. "I will. May StarClan watch over you, brother." When the dying leader didn't respond, Sharpthorn sighed and padded out of the den. He promptly ran into a cat with ginger fur.

"I'm sorry, Sharpthorn!" the she-cat meowed, backing away quickly. It took him a moment to recognize her. _Russetwhisker. Breezestar's first apprentice. _"I just wanted to come and check on the leader, and I wasn't expecting you there. It was my fault." She continued to babble, apologies tumbling out of her mouth.

"It's fine," he interrupted sharply. "No harm done. Breezestar is asleep at the moment, but you're free to go in. Now, have you seen Cinderwing?"

The ginger she-cat shook her head slowly. "No one's seen her all morning."

The thin medicine cat felt the cold touch of dread. "When you see Sparkstorm, ask him to come to my den. I need to speak with him about gathering a patrol to find her." He felt a bit of relief as the she-cat nodded without any questions.

He quickly walked over to his den, trying to reason with himself. _She's probably just out hunting_, he reasoned. _She'd want to be by herself, so she most likely wouldn't tell anyone. She likes to be by herself, just like her father once did. _A bitter smile curled his lips as he thought of his deceased brother, Smokeclaw. He and Cinderwing's mother had died very young. Cinderwing had never known her parents.

In his den, all was silent. Wrenpaw slept peacefully in her nest, carefully positioned so she wasn't laying on any of her burns. The she-cat had been trapped in the apprentice den during the fire that had recently ravaged camp. His store of herbs destroyed, he was unable to help her as infection spread and took her eyesight.

She tossed her head in her sleep, shifting slightly. "Marigold..." she murmured. "On...claws." He shot her a glance as she began to talk in her sleep. The black cat walked over to wake her up, but he was startled by the sound of pawsteps outside of his den. He whipped around, fur bristling until he recognized the cat.

"You had Russetwhisker come for me?" the golden tom asked, stepping inside. The deputy's blue eyes roamed about the den, finally settling on the medicine cat. He sat down, wrapping a striped tail around his paws.

"Yes," Sharpthorn meowed, "I did. No one has seen Cinderwing since last night. She's been gone all morning. I was wondering if you would send a few cats out to look for her. I'm worried for her."

The deputy didn't answer, instead studying Wrenpaw. "How is she doing?" the tabby asked, gesturing to the burned apprentice with his tail. "I haven't heard much about her condition."

"She's doing a little better," he said impatiently. "The infection has stopped spreading, and most of her burns are healing. She hasn't regained her sight, and she doesn't remember anything about the fire." He lashed his tail. "Now, we need to send the patrol soon."

"We won't be sending one," Sparkstorm meowed. His expression was of polite disinterest, but there was a gleam in his eyes that the medicince cat didn't like.

"What are you talking about?" Sharpthorn hissed. "She's been missing all day, and it's almost sunhigh! Someone needs to be looking for her." His claws unsheathed, clicking against the floor of the den.

The younger tom smirked. "We won't send a patrol, because we're not going to look for her." His voice grew quiet and deadly. "I suggest you sheathe your claws, or you might go missing as well. That would just be tragic, wouldn't it?"

Sharpthorn felt a flash of surprise before the fury rose up in him. "You set her up!" he snarled, hackles rising. "I would kill you where you stand right now, but I'll let Breezestar handle it." He stalked forward, but the golden tabby blocked his path.

"Going to tell the Clan? I don't think so." The deputy's smirk widened into a smile. "You see, I know something about you, Sharpthorn. Something that no one else knows. I'm sure the Clan would love to hear about why you have that scar."

The black medicine cat stopped in his tracks, pure shock written all over his face. He paled under his pelt. How could anyone have found out? He had always been so careful. "You don't know what you're talking about, _kit,_" he growled.

The golden cat looked amused. "I think I do, actually. I wonder what the Clan would think about their medicine cat if they knew your secret. Don't you think your brother would love to have those be the last words he'd ever hear, that his brother has lied to him about something for so long?"

"Leave my brother out of this!" he hissed, slashing his claws across the deputy's cheek. To his brief satisfaction, blood began to drip down Sparkstorm's muzzle. The medicine cat bared his fangs in a razor-sharp smile.

Sparkstorm hissed with pain before his blue eyes darkened in fury. "You'll pay for that," he growled. "Understand one thing before I leave. This is _my_ Clan now. These cats will do as I tell them to, or I'll kill the ones who disobey. This is the dawning of my reign, and things are going to change. I will rip you apart before I let you stand in my way."

Out in camp, a wail of misery echoed through the air. "Sharpthorn!" Russetwhisker's voice shrieked.

"Run along," the golden tabby said, grinning.

The black cat glared at him. "I'll go, but _you_ understand one thing before I leave. I am a loyal cat of StoneClan. The real StoneClan, not what it will be under your leadership. My Clanmates are my family, and I will do _anything _to protect my family. I _will_ be ripped apart before you receive your nine lives, because I'm going to do everything in my power to kill you. Because _I have nothing left to lose._"

The deputy smirked. "We'll see about that, Sharpthorn. I'm going to look forward to killing you." He chuckled. "Now go and see what your Clanmates want."

The black tom stalked out of the den. Russetwhisker met him halfway through camp. She was horrorstruck and wailing. "I was in the den with him, and he woke up all of a sudden. He w-was in p-pain, asking for poppy s-seeds. There weren't any, and I didn't know what to d-do. He...he..." The ginger cat broke off in another wordless wail, and he pushed her out of the way.

He raced through camp and to Breezestar's den, pushing cats out of his way. "Let me through!" he snarled as he shoved two warriors away from the den's entrance. His brother say in his nest, eyes open and dull, the light of life having left them. He felt something inside of him break as he stared at his brother's corpse. He reached forward with a shaking paw and closed his eyes. "May your spirit watch over us, brother," he said in a shaky whisper.

He turned and padded out of the den, oblivious to the cries of mourning and the murmured apologies. He padded straight to his den, but stopped in his tracks at the entrance. Placed at the mouth of his den were three poppy seeds and a tuft of golden fur.

_And so begins a new era._

**And with a new era beginning, our new chapter ends! Yes, I was a little sad about killing off Breezestar, but I think it turned out well. Sparkstorm's an evil little kitty, but you've only just seen the beginning. We'll have Cinderwing in the next chapter, so don't worry about her. Please keep reviewing you guys!**


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